


lace up your shoes (here's how we do)

by sol52



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, Nothing graphic on alcohol just enjolras having thinks about alcohol issues, Pining Enjolras, i didnt even mean to set this one on a roof as well it just happened, more rooftop shenanigans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2020-05-17
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:22:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24228046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sol52/pseuds/sol52
Summary: “My parents won’t hear if I go out the window.”“You’re gonna climb out the window, onto the roof, then down to the street?”Enjolras swallowed. “Uh. Yeah.”Grantaire laughed, and Enjolras’ heart did a funny little thing that he was gonna put in a box to analyze later with Courfeyrac’s help. Enjolras was a lightweight when it came to beautiful boys being stupid with him at one in the morning
Relationships: Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 134





	lace up your shoes (here's how we do)

**Author's Note:**

> We’re continuing the trend where I listen to my middle school music to cope with quarantine, I plan to write a fic based on a song, I get like one line in and the fic goes a totally different way than the song. oh well. Here, have 2.5k of Enjolras not having a single brain cell.
> 
> MUCH love to my betas! [fandomwarlock](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fandomwarlock) and [cantando_siempre](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cantando_siempre) who wrangled this fic from a 5am brain dump into something legible and comprehensible.
> 
> Title from Check Yes, Juliet by We The Kings (give it a listen, it SLAPS)

_Clack._

Enjolras looked up from his laptop where he had been squinting over his physics homework. He frowned, and his gaze swept over the second-floor window.

Probably just a bird, or the wind. 

He went back to puzzling over magnetic fields and the laws of physics. His phone was face down on the bed next to him. He wasn’t waiting for any texts. 

He wasn’t. Really. It was on Do Not Disturb and everything. 

_Clack._

Enjolras reached for his phone before pulling a hand back. No. He wouldn’t be That Guy, constantly checking for a text he knew wasn’t there. Besides, he had work to do. 

Okay, and yes, after the first noise, Enjolras’s brain had invented a hundred things it could have been. Of course it had. While Enjolras was determined to lead by example in proving that one didn’t need a romantic partner for happiness, the moment he heard a rock (an actual rock, what was this, 10 Things I Hate About You?) hit his window, all the secret wishes of a 17-year-old pre-revolutionary who had a hard time admitting loneliness flooded his mind. 

But this wasn’t a ‘90s rom-com, so Enjolras untangled his earbuds and was scrolling through Spotify to his studying music when — _clack._

His stomach did a funny swooping thing. He pushed his computer off his lap and swung his legs off the side of the bed before he stopped himself. What was he thinking? This was all ridiculous. It had been a bad day for the two of them. Enjolras had been short-tempered and tense, and when _he_ had started making snarky comments to Eponine and didn’t even try to hide it, Enjolras had unleashed what Courfeyrac called his “thunder of righteousness”. 

Really, he hadn’t meant to at all, he was just tired and a little strung up from class. He had said he was sorry afterward, and he was sincere, and Enjolras was pretty sure he had believed him. But it was one thing for him to accept his apology and a totally different thing for him to —

 _Clack._

Enjolras bit his bottom lip and tucked a stray piece of hair behind his ear. He quickly flipped his phone over, and checked the now-bright screen. 

**_R. Grantaire_ **  
_8 unread messages_

Enjolras threw himself across his room and over to his upstairs window, nearly tripping on his too-long pajama pants on the way. He threw the window open, his heart pounding in his ears. 

When he looked out into the evening streets, there he was, like some sort of classic movie protagonist. 

Grantaire leaned against his car outside Enjolras’s window, looking up from the driveway.  
Enjolras’ stomach turned in very, very many directions. 

Enjolras stuck his head out of the window, and Grantaire gave him a crooked smile and a casual wave, because Enjolras’s life was something from early 2000’s fanfiction. Someone was going to start talking about emerald orbs soon, even though neither of them had green eyes. 

Suddenly his phone lit up, vibrating in his hand.

**_Call from:_ **   
**_R. GRANTAIRE_ **

Enjolras made a very embarrassing noise that he was pretty sure Grantaire couldn't hear from Enjolras’s Parents Driveway (!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!) and hit the green _accept call_

“Hello?” he began, because his brain was a little bit empty at the moment. He could hear his heart pounding, so loud that he’d swear Grantaire could hear it through the phone. 

“Hey.” 

Grantaire’s voice rang out from his phone, amused, quiet, and thankfully sober. 

(It was complicated, okay, Enjolras knew that there were a lot of reasons for Grantaire’s drinking that were not for Enjolras to know, and he had a very strict no-judgement policy, but he was _worried_ about him and he was _scared_ for him and in a deeper place where Enjolras was crueler, he was just a little angry with Grantaire because he knew how much better he could do. Still. He felt bad for how relieved he was.) 

“What are you doing here?” Enjolras asked, his voice Very Chill And Casual. 

“Stopped by to say hi.” Grantaire said, his voice actually very chill and casual. 

“Grantaire, it’s one in the morning.”

“I was in the area.”

Oh, _please._

“Oh, please,” he said out loud. “This is nowhere near your usual haunts.”

“Keeping tabs on me, are you, Apollo?” Enjolras could hear the smile on Grantaire’s face when his voice rang through the phone, dry and amused. 

For a lot of reasons, Enjolras’ levels of chill descended further. Honestly, he was basically out of chill. Was that flirting? What even _was_ flirting? Was that it? Was he supposed to flirt back now? 

“I’m not — don’t _call_ me that. Eponine usually posts photos and tags the location. Bahorel, too. I’m not, like, stalking you.” 

If Grantaire didn’t have his eyes fixed on him from the driveway, Enjolras would have been making a lot of frustrated hand gestures. Why was his mouth so bad at the whole “words” thing? Why was he so bad at the whole Grantaire thing?

Grantaire’s voice came through the phone, tinny and holding back a laugh. “Chill out. Come on, grab a jacket. Let’s go.”

Enjolras swallowed. This was up Grantaire’s alley for sure, he often heard stories and saw the aforementioned social media evidence of his late-night escapades. It was one thing to watch from afar and wish desperately to be the one there with him, to be the one he thought of. It was another to have Grantaire in his driveway at 1am inviting him out. 

He had physics. 

Christ, he could hear a thousand voices in his head screaming at him for that. Physics could wait, this was an opportunity of a lifetime. On the other hand…

“I can’t. My parents will hear.” Enjolras felt the words tumble out almost without his permission, the good-kid instinct carved into him. 

“Your parents.” Enjolras could see Grantaire’s smirk from his place at the window. 

This wasn’t entirely untrue. Enjolras’s parents would have gone to bed a good three or four hours previous, but they were light sleepers. 

_God,_ why was he making excuses to himself? This was everything he hoped for, everything he worried he was missing out on with his studies and running Les Amis. He had been watching Grantaire for a while now (okay, not like, in a creepy way, he was just really hard to miss) and he knew, categorically, the same as he knew physics and the injustice in Terry v Ohio that when he looked at Grantaire, he really, really wanted to run his hands through his hair and cup his palm around his face. But there was so much he _didn’t_ know because all this stuff was _harder_ and there were no _rules_ he could learn. 

He would have asked Combeferre because it seemed like Combeferre knew everything, but he was pretty sure they were both lost in the romance department. He would have asked Courfeyrac, except this was happening _right now_ and Enjolras wasn’t sure how Grantaire would feel if he hung up on him to have a 15-minute deliberation with Courfeyrac while Grantaire waited for him in the driveway. 

So. It was up to him to make an emotionally intelligent decision. 

Alright, he could do this. 

“My parents won’t hear if I go out the window.”

Okay. Points for not staying in to do physics — but zero points for any sort of intelligence there, emotional or otherwise. 

“You’re gonna climb out the window… onto the roof. Then down to the street?”

Enjolras swallowed. “Uh. Yeah.”

Grantaire laughed, and Enjolras’ heart did a funny little thing that he was gonna put in a box to analyze later with Courfeyrac’s help. 

Enjolras was wearing pajama pants and a hoodie — it was too late to change. His teeth were brushed, thank God. His hair was not, but that’s what hoodies were for. His phone was charged. He was wearing his glasses, but too late to put in contacts now. He pulled on a pair of sneakers, laced up his shoes, and started maneuvering himself out the window.

As he was trying to yank his own arm through this smaller-than-he-remembered opening, the thought arrived very quickly in his head that this was probably an extraordinarily unattractive process to watch. He pulled his arm free with a yank, sending the rest of him careening one way — he quickly grabbed the windowsill with his other hand to keep himself upright and tried to channel something graceful. A gazelle. A panther. Cosette. 

He extricated his body from the windowsill and tried to gracefully shove the windowpane down. It closed with a satisfying _thunk_ , and he turned. 

So, this was the part where maybe he could have used some foresight. 

There was about 8 feet of rooftop over the porch before a mile-long 10 foot drop to the ground. 

He swallowed. 

Grantaire’s voice crackled out of his phone speakers, stifled in his hoodie pocket. “I’m interested to know what your next steps here will be.”

Enjolras scowled. He was close enough now that he could see the edge of Grantaire’s face lit by his phone screen pressed to his face, and he was smiling in a way that really was not going to help Enjolras’s balance as he tried to get off this roof. 

“Well —” he placed a foot carefully on the rough roof shingles and started easing towards the edge. “I’ll let you know when I find out.” 

It would be better, from an entirely logical point, to get on his ass and scoot. Or get on all fours and crawl. Enjolras considered these options, looked at Grantaire’s amused eyes, and firmly rejected those ideas.

Enjolras found himself at the edge of the roof much sooner than formerly anticipated. He looked over the side, at the drop that looked just a bit less than twice his height. 

“If you take a good leap, I bet you can make it back to Olympus.” 

Enjolras let out a surprised laugh. “Shut up.” 

He slowly lowered himself until he was sitting at the edge. He looked around — nothing to hold to lower himself slowly. He sighed, and unceremoniously ended the phone call. He gestured to Grantaire. 

“Catch,” he said, and tossed his phone. 

In hindsight, he knew he should have given a little more warning. He watched his phone spin through the air. He braced himself to hear it shatter on the ground, or go through Grantaire’s car windshield, or explode in midair and take both of them out —

Grantaire caught the phone safely, holding it up to show him before pocketing it. 

Huh. This felt like a metaphor. Another thing for the analyze-with-Courfeyrac box. 

Oh, shit, Courf was gonna tell him to “communicate” and “set his intentions”. He was not looking forward to that. 

He looked around. No solutions had suddenly arisen for how to get off this roof. He could try to slide down the support beam, although he’s not sure he could get a good grip before just falling. He could try to ease off the edge until he was hanging and then drop the rest of the way —hopefully only a couple of feet.

Enjolras slipped himself off the edge of the roof with the grace and dexterity of a panther descending from a tree.

(At least, that’s what he’d have to tell himself to remember anything about this without wanting to cry.)

A more factually accurate account would be that Enjolras fell off the roof and landed in a messy pile of sweatshirt, plaid pants, and wild yellow hair. 

He groaned. Nothing felt broken, except his pride. He looked up to see Grantaire hovering above him, eyes wide with worry.

Enjolras pushed himself up and rubbed a hand over his face. 

“Fucking... shit.” He made a noise again — was it a groan or some sort of animalistic cry of You Done Fucked It Up? It didn’t matter. 

Enjolras pushed his glasses back onto his face. Grantaire was... very close. He swallowed. 

Grantaire reached out a hand. Enjolras took it on instinct and stood up. Grantaire was still very close, and Enjolras was painfully aware of the commotion he had just made by falling off a roof and the fact that they were very visible to both his parents, should they choose to inspect, as well as any neighbors who may have overheard. 

Enjolras looked up at Grantaire, who had yet to let go of his hand. Grantaire’s eyes were very bright under the cool haze of the streetlight, and this was A Lot for Enjolras to handle. And then Grantaire smiled, and _honestly_ this boy needed to chill, Enjolras was a lightweight when it came to beautiful boys being stupid with him at one in the morning

“Hi.” 

Enjolras blinked. “Hi.”

“How’s it going?”

“Pretty good, all things considered.”

“I mean, you did just fall off a roof.”

“Yeah. But I’m good.”

Grantaire’s smile widened. “Glad to hear it.” 

Enjolras should kiss him. He was right there, and he was _looking_ at him like that, and — 

Enjolras looked away, pulling his hand back from Grantaire’s to brush dirt, leaves, and other ground-bits off himself, because he was a fucking coward. 

When he looked up from avoiding eye contact, Grantaire held his keys aloft and gave a casual nod to the car. “You made it this far.” He grinned, wild. “Wanna keep going?”

Enjolras felt himself smiling. He could do this. “Let’s go.”

As he swung himself into the passenger seat of Grantaire’s beat-up car, he felt himself exhale. He felt lighter than he had in a long time. Physics could wait. His parents' bedroom hung above them, a looming shape through the windshield like an eye that could open any minute. But no, it was just a window, still dark and unsuspecting. 

He heard the keys slot into the ignition, and he realized very quickly that just for a moment, he had the _nerve_ — 

“Wait.” 

Grantaire turned to look at him, and Enjolras lifted a hand up to his jaw, his fingers tangling in Grantaire’s dark hair. 

“Can I?”

Grantaire looked up at him with a teasing grin. “ ‘Course.” Which, consent was never ‘of course’, but that conversation could wait. 

Enjolras leaned forward and kissed him, and it was as lovely as he had imagined, warm and careful and with one of Grantaire’s curls tickling his forehead. 

He pulled back, settling into his seat with a smile. 

“Let’s go.”

**Author's Note:**

> run, baby run!
> 
> Where are they going? I don’t know. I’d like to think they're going to get frozen yogurt and then climb trees in the park. Maybe make out a little. It’s up to them.
> 
> find me on [tumblr](permets-2.tumblr.com)


End file.
